The goodbyes to Rob and Millianna were quicker than expected.
The old man just waved them off and told them to be careful on the road. He looked so unruffled that Shane was sure the geezer had his own ways of making money—starving wasn't in the cards.
Millianna hugged the new hair clip Erza had given her. Her eyes were a little red, but she still said goodbye like a good girl.
By the time the two reached the smithy, the cargo was already being loaded. The owner—a brawny middle-aged man with an arm thicker than Shane's thigh—took one look at Shane and Erza arriving together and frowned hard.
He recognized Shane, but two half-grown kids claiming to be "mages" didn't inspire confidence. If not for his apprentice's insistence, he would've paid extra to hire a proper guild.
"Er… Shane, lad, it's not that I don't trust you, it's just that the road…" He rubbed his hands, voice hesitant.
Shane didn't explain. He smiled, lifted a hand, and the blood-red greatbow bloomed into existence.
He turned sideways, drew, nocked.
With a soft vmm, a crimson streak leapt from the string in a lazy arc toward the sea.
Boom!
A solid thud—white spray jumped on the water and sent a few seabirds flapping.
The training had paid off; even without True Name, his shots hit harder.
The smith stood gaping—at the sea settling back to calm, then at the bow slowly dissolving from Shane's hand. Worry flipped to awe in an instant.
"Good! Good! No problem!" He nodded again and again, signed the escort contract on the spot, and shelved his doubts.
While the last crates went on the wagon, Shane grabbed Erza and hustled back to the inn. His pile of odd-shaped "creations" still sat in the corner.
"We're bringing all these?" Erza eyed the heap, a bit daunted.
"Of course. They're my babies—never know when we'll need them." He rummaged up several heavy cloths and clumsily bundled them into one very dense package.
He hefted it and sighed. "What a pain to lug around. Is there a storage spell in this world? I've got to learn one."
Erza agreed; with her weapon-control magic, gear was going to be a major part of her life.
They checked out and hauled the bundle back to the smithy just as the wagon was ready to roll. The owner sent Noel along, too—"see the world, and lend Shane-san a hand."
The road was smooth; the wagon creaked along. Leaning on the sideboard, Shane watched familiar scenery slide past and felt a twinge of regret.
After all these days, Trial: Initiation still wasn't complete. He ate on time, went home at night—how was that not "stable"?
His eyelid twitched. Surely "stable" didn't mean "buy a house," right? He didn't want to think it into existence. Becoming a mortgage slave after isekai would be nightmare fuel.
The road was good but the wagon air was stuffy.
He and Erza traded a look and climbed onto the roof.
Wind lifted their hair; the view widened at once. A lot of other wagons shared the road—quite the spectacle—but they just happened to be moving the same way. Protecting them wasn't part of the job.
Staring at the wagon traffic, Shane muttered inwardly. Magic, lightning-fast magi-trains… and yet horse-carts still ruled? The tech tree here was weird.
Erza balanced carefully on the roof, sword in hand, doing her "special training." She eyed the long caravan. "Why are so many wagons headed to Shirotaon?"
Noel leaned out from the driver's bench to answer first. "Master says Shirotaon's a famous hot spring town! Bet they're all going to soak!"
Shane wasn't convinced.
A hot spring city… that big a draw? If it's close, folks can go anytime—why all at once? And long-distance travelers would take the direct lines.
He shrugged it off. Not their problem.
The day passed quietly; not a hint of the danger they'd braced for. Noel, sword clutched tight at first, relaxed completely and began to think his master had overreacted.
Hire a mage escort? Look at the other wagons—most didn't bother, and they were fine. Still, helping Shane-san felt good.
Night fell with half a day still to go. Most caravans stopped on a broad patch of ground, lit campfires, and rested till dawn.
The flames crackled. Shane idly poked the fire with a stick; sparks danced up and down.
Erza, by contrast, was buzzing—eyes bright, scanning the flickering glow and shifting silhouettes in the dark.
"First job as a mage. Being hyped is normal," Shane thought. He wasn't sleeping either—duty, yes, but a little excitement too.
After a while, seeing she was only getting more wired, he sighed. "Save your strength. Something might happen later."
"Why?" Erza frowned.
"If you're going to rob a convoy, you pick the hour when everyone's most exhausted. We're a big target, not a single unit. Even if some wagons hired guards, they can't cover everyone. It's the perfect time—grab and go."
Erza blinked. "But… they won't necessarily pick us, right?"
Shane rapped her lightly on the forehead.
"Hey!" She glared, hands flying to her head.
"Look at us—two half-grown kids guarding a wagon piled with goods. If we're not the easy mark, who is?"
Rather than frighten her, that only stoked the fire in her eyes. She shadow-swung the sword he'd conjured, practically radiating please rob us.
Shane rolled his eyes. If not for the contract, he'd have dumped the whole night watch on her and gone to sleep.
They chatted idly. The camp quieted, leaving only the burble of the fire and snores in the distance.
Near midnight, Shane's stick paused. A prickle slid up his spine—the feeling of being watched. He tugged Erza's sleeve and whispered, "They're here."
Erza shot to her feet, mouth opening—he stopped her with a look. She clapped both hands over her lips at once.
Her body's excitement was impossible to hide; her grip on the hilt went white with pressure.
Crouching low, they slipped outward, using wagons and darkness for cover.
Sure enough—on the camp's edge, in the shadows, a dozen men in dark clothes and masked with cloth were spreading out, blades gleaming as they crept toward the convoy.
~~~
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